


Alien Leaper, Alien Son

by TMar



Category: Quantum Leap, Starman (TV)
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMar/pseuds/TMar
Summary: Sam Beckett leaps into Paul Forrester, photographer and alien.





	Alien Leaper, Alien Son

**Author's Note:**

> This story was published in "Starcrossed", a STARMAN crossover fanzine, in September 1994.

NEW MEXICO, 1999

The last thing that Paul Forrester remembered was microwaving some pizza  
for himself and Scott; the next thing he knew, he was in some weird all-  
white room, in someone else's clothes, and he didn't have his sphere. 

The last worried him more than the other things. If he didn't have  
his sphere, he couldn't escape if such a thing became necessary. And  
without the sphere his son was lost to him. This in itself was unusual,  
because Paul usually had a very strong sense of his son's whereabouts  
even without using the sphere, but now, all of a sudden, his sense of his  
son was gone. Had Fox somehow managed to capture them? It didn't seem  
likely, but there was no way else he could explain what had happened.

He was looking around the room for the fifth time when a door at one  
end slid upwards, and a man in a Hawaiian shirt, bright yellow pants and  
red shoes appeared. "Hi," said the man in a friendly voice.

"Hi," said the starman, responding to the friendliness with the  
same.

"Now, I know this may seem a bit strange to you, but you're safe  
here. You're not our prisoner, you're our guest."

"Where's my son?"

"Your son?"

"Scott Hayden." When he said that, Paul noticed the man push some  
buttons on what looked like a very sophisticated computer pad. Then the  
man looked up. "How old is your son?"

"Fifteen. Is he all right?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine. My name's Al."

"I'm Paul."

"Paul what?"

"Paul Forrester."

Al pushed buttons again, then looked back at him. "The Paul  
Forrester that took all those pictures in Vietnam?"

"Yes."

"Hm. You compiled a book with your snaps, right?"

"Right."

"And then you miraculously survived a helicopter crash that should  
have killed you."

"Yes."

"Hmmm..." Al said, scrutinising the computer pad.

"That's a handheld computer, isn't it?" Paul asked. "Kind of like  
a remote control."

"Yeah. We call it a hand link."

"Why am I here?"

When Paul said that, Al snorted with laughter. "Now that's funny."

"Why?"

"Because that's usually the first thing Sam asks me!"

"Sam?"

LOS ANGELES, 1987

"Dad? Are you okay?" Sam focused on a teenager with dark brown hair and  
brown eyes. The youth looked very concerned. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You looked kinda spaced out there for a minute."

"No, I'm fine."

"Maybe we should wait a few days before we make this historic  
announcement."

"Uh... maybe."

"I mean, how do you know the government won't arrest you anyway?  
Take you to some installation and dissect you? Maybe they'll say you're  
a loony who needed medical attention. I'm not comfortable with this idea  
at all."

"I think it's the best idea we've come up with," replied Sam, taking  
a chance. 

"So tomorrow we go on TV and say, 'Hey, look, folks, the aliens have  
landed!'"

"Aliens?"

1999

Paul Forrester looked at Al in amazement. "I've travelled through time?"

"Yes."

"And your partner, Sam, is with my son back in 1987?"

"Yes."

"And he's going to fix something that went wrong in time."

"Something that went wrong in your life, yes."

"What?"

"We won't know until Ziggy comes up with more information." Al  
consulted the hand link. "Ziggy says that tomorrow you and your son go  
on TV and announce to the world that you're aliens from outer space." He  
looked at Paul like he'd escaped from a mental home. "You're going to  
tell the world you're, like, extraterrestrials?"

"Yes."

"Why, for crying out loud?"

"Because we are. I mean, I am. My son's mother is from Wisconsin."

"Oh, boy."

Paul could somehow 'feel' that Al didn't believe him. He himself  
knew how it sounded. Aliens from outer space! "You don't believe me."

Al looked as uncomfortable on the outside as he felt inside, but  
there was something about this man that made him WANT to believe that the  
Martians had indeed landed. "Well..."

"Al." Paul spoke patiently. "Is it any more unbelievable than  
travelling through time?"

"Maybe not. Okay. Ziggy says that after you two go on TV, you  
disappear." He whacked the hand link a few times. "Damn! That stuff's still classified. Looks like whoever made you disappear did a good job, because we can't find anything else out about you. A woman  
appeared at the station three days after you disappeared, saying her name was Jenny Hayden. She ended up locked in a mental." *Whack* "Home. Oh, mental home. For the rest of her life."

"No!"

"Look, your outerspaceness..."

"Paul."

"Okay. Paul. That's why Sam's there. To stop you from going on TV  
and getting yourselves arrested. Whatever. Whose idea was it, anyway, for  
you to go on TV?"

"Liz Baines. She was the real Paul Forrester's friend. She helps us.  
She said that if we went public, the government wouldn't harm us any  
more."

The real Paul Forrester? Al suppressed the urge to ask about THAT.  
Instead, he said, "Looks like your friend was wrong." He went to the door  
and it opened. "Hang in there, Paul. I've gotta go give Sam the news."

 

1987

"Dad, you're acting funny. Don't you want to go public?" The youngster  
sighed loudly. "I still think that Liz is wrong. I mean, no one will  
believe us, not even with the sphere. They'll say it was just special  
effects or something. You know the public."

Sam rubbed his eyes, wondering just what he had leaped into here,  
when the Imaging Chamber door opened, and Al stepped out. "Sam, you'll  
never believe this! The guy in the waiting room thinks he's an alien!"

"Who said that?" asked Scott, jumping up and looking around. "Dad!  
Did you hear that?"

Sam looked at Al. "I didn't hear anything. Look, uh... you go get  
the pizza out of the microwave, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam turned to Al. "Don't they usually think you're the alien?"

"I'm tellin' ya, Sam, this guy thinks he's from outer space, and  
tomorrow he's going on TV to tell the world."

"Well uh..." Sam got that sad puppy look on his face, like he didn't  
want to say anything, and Al was immediately suspicious. "What, Sam?"

"I think the kid believes it too."

"What, that his old man's from out there?" Al pointed upwards.

"Yeah." Sam ran his hand through his hair. "It's possible. I saw a  
U.F.O. once, remember?"

"Look in the mirror."

At his friend's 'oh for goodness sakes' look, Al repeated the  
request. "Just please look in the mirror."

When Sam did, he saw an average, nice-looking guy in a leather  
jacket looking back at him. There was something about  
the eyes, though, something... innocent. Something kind and  
child-like. Sam liked what he saw in the mirror.

"Now does that look like E.T.?" asked Al.

"Well, no, but..." Sam turned to his friend. "Al! What's my name?"

"Oh, yeah." The observer took out the hand link. "Your name's Paul  
Forrester, you're a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer. You're known for  
fast living and fast women." Al looked appreciative.

"Al!"

"Okay, okay. About a year and a half ago you started travelling  
around with this kid named..." *Whack* "...Scott Hayden. Both you, I mean  
Paul, and he say he's Paul's son."

"I hear a 'but' in there, Al."

"Tissue samples taken show you're not related, you just happen to  
have the same blood type."

"So?"

"So I don't know!"

"And another thing, Al. Why can Scott hear you? He shouldn't be able  
to, surely. Unless he's like that guy... uh... the one we Scrooged that  
time."

Al looked thoughtful. "Could be. I'll check with Ziggy."

"Good idea. You find out as much as you can about this. I'll see  
what I can get out of Scott."

"Gotcha." Al stepped out of the Imaging Chamber door, and Sam looked  
around the apartment. "Ohh, boy!" 

Scott poked his head around the door the minute Al left. "You're not my  
father," he announced.

"What did you say?"

"I heard everything. I was standing by the door. What have you done  
with my father?"

"I haven't done anything with him." Sam dashed to the door just  
ahead of Scott, blocking his exit. "Please, sit down and I'll tell you  
who I am and why I'm here."

Scott gave Sam a measuring glance. "Okay." He sat. "This better be  
good."

Sam explained everything: Project Quantum Leap, time travel, even  
his string theory, and Scott took it all in. "I dunno so much about this  
string theory business, but it sounds like it could happen." He covered  
his eyes with his hands. "I can't believe I believe this!"

"Is your father really an alien?"

"Yeah. He was here fifteen years ago. He came back to help me. He  
doesn't want to hurt anyone, all he wants is to help me find my mother  
so we can be a family."

"Your mother's name is Jenny Hayden?"

"Yeah."

"Let me see what Al and I can do about that, okay?"

"Okay."

"And in the meantime, what do we do?"

"My father had a shoot scheduled. Some bigwig magazine photographer  
cancelled, and he's shooting some famous person down at the beach."

"I can do that," said Sam with confidence. "I was a photographer  
once."

"Did the pictures come out nice?" asked Scott, not wanting his  
father's reputation ruined.

"Actually..." said Sam, thinking back, "I don't think I ever saw any  
of my shots!"

"Oh, great."

***

Sam's shots of the famous person turned out very well. He was overseeing  
their development in the magazine studio's darkroom when Al appeared.  
"Sam!"

Sam dropped one of the prints on the floor. "Al!"

"What?" asked the technician.

"Ah... nothing. The photo's look fine. I'll take five now."

"Okay. I'll call you when they're all done."

Once outside, Al filled Sam in on what Ziggy had come up with.  
"Ziggy says you're definitely here to stop Paul and Scott going on TV,  
and to stop Jenny Hayden from being committed."

"Okay. All we do is cancel the TV appearance, right?"

"Wrong. Apparently this Liz Baines person had called all the papers  
saying that you two had 'proof' that aliens were on Earth."

Sam's frustration was growing by the second. "All right, Al, what  
do we do then?"

"You gotta manufacture some 'evidence'. You're a reporter, right?"

"I'm a photographer. There's a difference." Sam was trying not to  
think of how he'd come up with some sort of 'evidence' of aliens.

But Al carried on regardless. "There's not much of a difference. All  
you have to do is take photographs of something vaguely U.F.O.-like and  
send them out."

"What about the TV appearance? The government's after Paul and  
Scott, right?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, the government is after you, but you don't  
cancel. You go on and you make stuff up!"

Sam was incredulous. "Make stuff up? You're telling me to go on TV  
in front of millions of people and MAKE STUFF UP?"

Al looked wounded. "Yeah." He brightened. "Silly stuff, that can  
easily be disproven, see? The TV doesn't take you seriously, and they  
kick you off the set. Then, you run like hell away from there. Simple."

"Yeehhh..." mumbled Sam to himself.

***

"Sam, what are we doing out here at this hour?" asked Scott.

"We're taking pictures of U.F.O.'s," stated Sam, setting up the  
camera.

"That's the moon," said Scott, stating the obvious.

"Yes, it's the moon. But with this filter I cobbled together, it'll  
come out looking like something completely different." 'I hope,' he added  
silently to himself.

"You hope," said Scott, and Sam smiled. "Yeah."

***

A little later, they developed the photographs Sam had taken, using the  
magazine's darkroom. Sam had said he still had a few shots to develop,  
so they were left alone.

"Wow!" said Scott, looking at the first batch. "These are great!  
They really do look like flying saucers!"

"Is that what your father's, er, spaceship looked like?"

Paul had told his son about the ship, but Scott had never seen it.  
"I don't think so," he said. "Dad's ship - the main one - was kinda like  
a relfective sphere, with a field of particles orbiting it."

Sam became a lot more interested. "Really? The UFO I saw in '66 was  
round too."

Scott looked dubious. "You saw a UFO?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? You're  
the kid who says his father's from outer space."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Okay." Scott Hayden's voice took on a tone  
of rehearsal. "We disguise ourselves a bit, so no one can recognise you  
later. We go on and we show them these photographs."

"Right."

"And we say we met aliens."

"Right," said Sam again. "Listen. You tell them what they looked  
like, okay? Since your father's one," he added as an afterthought.

"Hey, my father's just a ball of blue energy without his body,"  
replied Scott. "But, sure, I've seen lots of science fiction movies. I'll  
make up something really cool."

"Not too cool!" said Sam. "It must sound believable."

"Okay. You're sure they won't realise these pictures are fakes?"

"They might, but it'll take some high-resolution computer  
techniques, and by the time they realise it, our story will just be  
another one for the newsfiles." Sam looked at Scott seriously. "Without  
your claiming to actually BE an alien, people will lose interest. That's  
what we want. We only saw a UFO, we didn't arrive in one."

"And hopefully, with the disguise, Fox won't notice us."

"That's the plan." Sam sighed, feeling tired. "Let's go home and get  
some sleep."

***

Their day at the TV station dawned bright and early. Sam and Paul's son  
had to be there an hour before the morning show, to discuss what they  
were planning to talk about, and so on. Sam handed his moon photographs  
to the editing people, who were going to flash them on the screen at  
given intervals. The floor manager explained where they'd sit, what  
they'd say, and how long it would take. They'd have about fifteen  
minutes, with a commerical break somewhere in between. "Got all that?"  
she asked.

"Yeah," replied Sam.

"Good. Okay, ten minutes till you're on. Don't forget - try to sound  
sane and convincing, otherwise the audience changes the channel and  
that's bad for the ratings."

"Check!" enthused Scott, looking forward to seeing what he could get  
away with. His hair was combed into a completely weird style that Sam had  
assured him made him look completely unlike the Scott Hayden everyone  
knew. He was also dressed differently; they'd ditch the clothes when they  
got out of the studio.

Sam had combed gel through his hair, so that the relfection of Paul  
Forrester looked like it had been caught in a rainstorm. He also wore a  
fake moustache and had darkened his skin in patches with some store-  
bought makeup. Even though Liz had provided the studio with their real  
names, people would never be seeing those particular faces again, so Sam  
didn't think it mattered.

***

Just as the cameras were rolling, Al arrived. "Hi, Sam!"

Scott jumped, but didn't say anything. Al came forward. "Not bad  
disguises, you two. Remember to make the story as run-of-the-mill as  
possible."

Sam nodded, then did his best to ignore the hologram, concentrating  
instead on what the woman was saying. "Claim to have proof that UFO's  
exist! Here now to speak with us are Paul Forrester and his son Scott."

Sam was nervous, but he'd been on TV before. "Hi," he said to the  
camera.

"Now, Paul, you say you have proof of UFO's?"

"Yes, although some people might not consider it proof."

"What do you have?"

"Pictures."

"Oh, come, Paul, everyone can fake UFO pictures."

Sam smiled. "True, but let me ask you this: why would a photographer  
of my talent risk his career by faking UFO pictures? I might never be  
hired to shoot anything again!"

"Hm," said the woman, whose name (neither Sam nor Scott could quite  
keep it straight) was something like Wendy or Mandy or something equally  
suited to a person hosting a morning show. She went on. "You also claim  
to have met aliens. Care to tell us about that?"

Scott leaned forward. "We met 'em."

"Did they have a message for us?"

Scott told the truth, only no one would know it. "They sent  
greetings."

"Greetings?"

"Yeah. They said they knew we were looking for life in outer space,  
and they'd come to say hi."

"What did these aliens look like?"

"Well, they didn't look like the ones on War of the Worlds, if  
that's what you mean," said Scott, warming to his topic. "They...they're  
kinda hard to describe."

"They had a kinda pasty complexion," Sam put in quickly. "They were  
about... five foot six. They had blonde hair, like hair on this planet,  
but their eyes were bigger than ours. They had two, like we do, and a  
mouth like we do. No nose, just nasal openings." Sam felt quite pleased  
with his improvisation.

And then even Al had an idea. "Sam!"

Sam tried to look at Al without seeming too obvious.

"Say they don't have any sexes! No males or females! The audience'll  
love it."

Sam looked at Al as if to say, "Why?"

"Because, Sam," Al answered as if Sam had actually asked the  
question, "you can't get much more alien than that!"

Sam looked at Wendy/Mandy/whatever. "They don't have any males or  
females. They're androgynous."

Mandy/Wendy looked nonplussed. "An-what?"

"Androgynous. Both sexes, actually, more like neither."

"Oh!" Her colour went up a little, then she turned to the camera.  
"Right now we'd like to show you some photographs Paul Forrester took of  
the alien ship, and then we'll be right back after these messages."

The on-air light went off, and Wendy/Mandy sagged. "You made that  
up," she said to Sam.

"Why do you say that?"

"A feeling. Is this a joke to you?"

Sam was about to answer when Scott pointed at the door to the  
soundstage where an older, irritable-looking man was arguing with the  
security guard. "Sam! I mean, Dad! It's Fox!"

"What?"

"He's found us! We've gotta get out of here!"

Sam looked at Fox in panic. Scott had told him all about how Fox had  
tried time and again to capture them, and he certainly didn't want to be  
dissected as an 'alien' by the government! He also knew from experience  
that the government sometimes resorted to underhanded methods to get what  
they wanted. 

Sam got up, along with Scott. "Where are you going?" Wendy/Mandy  
asked. "The show's not over!"

"It is for us!" Sam said. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Sure, through Stage Five, but they're..."

Sam and Scott dashed through Stage Five, interrupting the taping of  
a cooking segment. "What the -- "

They were followed half a minute later by a paranoid Federal  
Security official named George Fox.

The pair dashed down the emergency stairway, only to come face to  
face with a locked security gate at the bottom. "Oh, no!"

Al appeared, halfway into the gate. "You can't get out this way,  
Sam! Try going up a flight and through the reception area."

"Quick, go back the other way!" Sam yelled to Scott.

"Too late! Fox is here!" They heard running footsteps above them.

"We're trapped, then," Sam said, all the fight going out of him  
.  
"Maybe not." Scott pulled his sphere from his pocket, and held it  
in his fist. He began to concentrate.

"What's that?" asked Sam. Scott hadn't said anything about this  
until now.

"Quiet! I can't concentrate otherwise!" The footsteps got closer.

"Scott, maybe we can..." The lock on the security gate started to  
melt.

"Oh, my God!" stated Sam. "It's all true!"

"He really is an alien!" Al was just as surprised as Sam.

The lock melted right through, and the gate swung open, but Sam was  
still staring at the sphere which had now stopped glowing. Scott grabbed  
his arm. "Sam! come on!" They ran for dear life, onto the pavement,  
around the corner of the building, and dashed into an open doorway. 

"Okay, this is fine!" Al said. "Just stay here and wait for him to  
pass by. Be quiet!" 

But Sam's curiosity couldn't be contained. "What was that?" he  
whispered to Scott.

"It's called a sphere. It's kind of like an energy thing. A person  
has to concentrate to make it work, but I never got it to do that  
before!" Sam heard the triumph in the boy's voice.

"Forrester, I know you're here somewhere!" Fox's voice yelled,  
sounding terribly close.

"What do we do?" whispered Scott.

And someone standing behind them whispered back, "You get out of our  
way."

Sam turned, to find three blue people in white satin suits, with  
weird bumpy foreheads, right behind them. "What the -- !" For one minute,  
Sam was tempted to believe that even weirder aliens had arrived. 

"Forrester, why are you doing this? Do you really think that by  
going on TV you'll get sympathy so that your alien cohorts can attack  
us?" Fox sounded rather crazy, but Scott knew the man believed that his  
father was trying to conquer the Earth. 

One of the blue people went, "Shh," and stepped out of the doorway.  
He addressed Fox. "Take us to your leader."

"Hold it right there!" Fox yelled, pulling out his gun. Inside the  
building, Scott and Sam exchanged amused glances.

The three 'aliens' smiled at Fox, and finally one said, "Listen,  
fella. We're going to be filming a commercial over on Stage Three. You're  
gonna make us late."

Fox hesitated. "What are you?"

"We're supposed to be from... er... Zorkon or something like that,"  
one said. "We're doing a space advert for some breakfast cereal or other.  
You know, 'It's out of this world!'" 

Sam giggled quietly to himself, thinking those three belonged on "Captain Galaxy".

"Oh." Fox put his gun away. "You didn't see a man and a boy come  
through here by any chance, did you?"

The three actors shrugged. "Nah."

And Fox headed in another direction without saying another word.

Sam and Scott relaxed visibly. "Oh, boy. That was close."

"You said it," replied Scott.

1999

"They did it!" Al enthused to Paul. "They escaped that government guy who  
was chasing you!"

Paul smiled, happy. Sam's face didn't often smile at Al in the  
Waiting Room... too often the people were too scared or suspicious to be  
nice to the people from the Project. But the starman was not one of them.  
Not only did he comprehend what had happened, but he was quite happy to  
let Sam do his 'fixing'... he hadn't once asked Al to send him back, as  
most leapers did. "So what happens now?" Paul asked.

Al whacked the hand link. "Since Sam hasn't leaped out yet, there  
must still be something to do, Ziggy says. Okay. You escaped Fox, which  
is good. Ziggy says there's an 80.7% probability that Sam is there to  
find a Jenny Hayden, Scott's mother."

Paul nodded. "That sounds right."

"Any idea where she is?"

"No. We've been looking for her for two years. We did find her once,  
in Arizona, but then we got separated when Fox found us."

"Maybe Ziggy can find her. Does she have any aliases?"

"She used the name Karen Isley for her paintings."

Al entered the information into the hand link. "Ziggy's trying to  
access the banks of the art galleries...great! Ziggy says there was  
just... I mean, in 1987, there was an exhibition of landscape paintings  
by an artist named Juliet Hartford that look like they're by the same  
artist. Let's see if I can get the location... got it!" As he said that,  
Al moved towards the door. "I've gotta go tell Sam. Sit tight, I'm sure  
you'll see her soon." Al turned at the door. "Who knows, you might even  
leap back before I get back."

"Al." Paul said it gently.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." And the door slid shut behind him.

1987

Al gave Sam the necessary information: Jenny Hayden (or Juliet Hartford)  
was living in a small town in Nevada. "If you go there right now, Sam,  
odds are you'll find her."

"That's all I have to do to leap?"

"That's what Ziggy says."

"Wait a minute," said Scott. "I thought you said that my mother  
originally came to the TV studio."

"Yeah, she did," replied the hologram. "But this time, since your  
story was so... run of the mill... no one paid any attention, and it  
didn't generate any publicity. Though," he went on, highly amused, "your  
photographs still haven't been proved to be fakes, Sam!"

Sam smiled at that. "They confused everybody?"

"Yeah. How did you do it, anyway?"

Sam shrugged; it had been simple really. "I just made a filter from  
this crystalline stuff I found. It distorted the moon and made it change  
colour on the film."

Al grinned. "Even Ziggy's impressed." Pause. Then, "What are you  
waiting for? Get to Nevada!"

Sam continued to stand there, however. In a very small voice he said  
to Al, "How?"

Scott was grinning, now, too. "Well, since you got enough money from  
that photo shoot, I'd say let's take a plane."

"Good idea!" said Sam, relieved. Scott had told him tales of  
hitching across the country, and he hadn't been looking forward to that.

***

The flight did not take long, after which Sam and Paul's son took a bus  
to the address Al had provided. "Oooh, boy," said Sam as they stood  
outside the door.

"What? What is it?" asked Scott.

"I dunno. It's not really right for me to be here. Your father  
should be here, and I should be leaping."

Scott looked downcast when Sam said that; he knew how leaping  
worked, and thought that this might mean that his mother would not be in  
this house, waiting for him. Sam saw the look, and knew the youth's  
thoughts, but the only way to know was to knock on the door. He did.

A woman with long black hair and blue eyes opened the door. She  
stared at the pair, and they stared back - Sam, because he didn't know  
if this was in fact Jenny Hayden, and Scott because his dream had come  
true. 

Finally, it was Jenny herself who spoke. "Paul? Scott?" She reached  
out and hugged the both of them... and Sam leaped.

Paul found himself back in the arms of the woman he loved. "I love  
you, Jenny Hayden," he said.

1999

Al poked his head into the Waiting Room, and knew immediately that it  
wasn't Paul in there. The person was lying curled up on the floor, and  
seemed to be sleeping. Just as well. Al approached slowly, and it was  
then that he saw the message, on one of the pieces of paper he'd let Paul  
have.

"I will never forget," it said. "Thank you."

THE END


End file.
